


Love Love Love

by ashisverymuchonfire



Category: Bandom, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens
Genre: Band Fic, Fluff and Smut, Hotel Sex, Intimacy, Love Confessions, M/M, Smut, Touring, Valentine's Day, kellic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisverymuchonfire/pseuds/ashisverymuchonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vic always tells Kellin that he loves him. Kellin has never once said it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Love Love

**Author's Note:**

> this was based off of my World Tour date, as I went on Valentine’s Day and wanted to write about it. aaaand this is probably the fluffiest smut scene I've ever written. no shame. hope you enjoy. also, for the sake of the story, as it takes place in the actual world instead of an AU, Kellin and Vic are dating each other.

"Break a leg, Kell! I love you!"  
  
This is what my boyfriend, Vic, calls out to me just as I’m getting ready to go onstage with the rest of my band, Sleeping With Sirens. We’re in Philadelphia, preparing to perform a sold-out show on a tour simply called The World Tour. We’re going first (after the opening bands, of course), followed by Vic’s band, Pierce the Veil. And—oh, yeah—it’s Valentine’s Day.  
  
Vic is great. He really is. I fell for him two years ago, when our bands first collaborated to create the song “King for a Day,” and those past two years have been some of the best of my life. But when he drops a bomb like that— _I love you_ —right before I’m supposed to go onstage…well, I don’t know how to feel.  
  
They’re just a few innocent words of encouragement, and I know it’s probably just because it’s Valentine’s Day and he wants to show me off, but that doesn’t stop me from having to take an extra deep breath and remind myself that he means well. He does. I know he does.  
  
All of my problems melt away when I step onto that stage, though. No matter how many times I do this, I think I’ll always get that familiar rush of adrenaline as I start to spill my heart out into the microphone. I’m not good with love, but if there’s one thing that I know I love, it’s this.  
  
And because it’s Valentine’s Day, I tell the crowd that, right before one of our acoustic songs. I talk to these people, these kids—as deeply as if they were my own family—about love, the word that burns my throat every time I say it. I talk about how there is love of all kinds, how you can love your parents or your best friend or your partner, how one thing I love is being able to do what I do. It’s true, and it’s overwhelming, how thankful I am for all these people for listening to what I have to say, for allowing me to do what I do for a living. The word “love” scares the hell out of me, but I’m not afraid to say it for them. Music does that to people, I think.  
  
It’s sort of ironic that one of the most well-known lyrics from our band has that word in it. “ _They say that love is forever; your forever is all that I need._ ” Putting “love” in a song line has always been sort of a personal achievement of mine, as if I’m testing myself to see how far I can go with the words that I write. I feel proud, like I’ve just done something daring or dangerous, or like I’ve overcome some huge obstacle. I haven’t, really; most people say it without a second thought. But I guess I’m not most people.  
  
Once our set is over, we celebrate on another job well done, and Vic, of course, is one of the first people to congratulate us and tell us we did great. He does this almost every night, but he’s especially enthusiastic tonight. I know that the holiday is putting him in a good mood, and I wish I could feel the same way.  
  
It’s not that I’m not happy with Vic. Of course I am. It’s just that there’s so much pressure and romance around this time, and I don’t like being so public about my relationship. People might see it as me being heartless or ungrateful, but the truth is, I’m just a little freaked out.  
  
I’ve never been good with that goddamn word.  
  
Even if it’s just a relative or a close friend, I’m so terrible at handling the phrase “I love you.” I can’t remember the last time I said it to someone. The whole concept is just scary. I hate it when people say it to me and then expect me to say it back. I can’t do that. My throat closes up, and my mouth can’t properly form words…and it makes me look like a weirdo or an asshole if I don’t say it back. But it’s just…a stressful phrase for me.  
  
Vic seems to sense my apprehension, as he always does, and gives me one of his  _looks_. It’s a look of care and affection and concern, and as much as I want to turn away from the eyes that see right through me, I can’t. So I meet his gaze steadily, a returning look meant only for him.  
  
Not long after that, it’s Pierce the Veil’s turn to take the stage, and I watch them almost the entire time. I can’t help the small, hesitant smile that works its way onto my lips because of what he says before their acoustic song, about getting “all soft and romantic, for all you lovers out there on Valentine’s Day.” It’s a general statement, but I know that he’s thinking about us when he says it. It’s a thought that both scares me and makes my heart swell.  
  
I come back out onstage at the very end to sing “King for a Day” with Vic. He makes a face at me when I step out and take an exaggerated bow, and after a moment, I realize that it’s because I changed out of the sweater that I was wearing for my earlier set and into a t-shirt, a jean jacket, and a red beanie. He loves it when I wear that sweater, and with good reason, too—he’s the one who gave it to me.  
  
I remember that the moment I fell in love with Vic two years ago—or, at least, the moment that I realized it—was while we were performing this song together, and I can understand why, especially on nights like tonight. It’s the final song of the show, the grand finale, and there are few things that make me feel more alive than the combination of performing and Vic.  
  
After that, when it’s completely over and done with, most of us head back to the hotel that we’re staying at while we’re in Philly (we’ve got another performance tomorrow night, too). It’s snowing, of course, the wind blowing like crazy, and even when we’re inside the hotel, I still cling to Vic for warmth. He complains about me smothering him, but we both know he likes it. I don’t show affection too often, so he cherishes it when I do. But what can I say? It’s fucking cold outside, and if that gives me an excuse to press my body against his, then so be it.  
  
Vic insisted that he and I get our own private hotel room with one king-sized bed for this particular city. Some of our fellow bandmates have been teasing us for this, but they all understand, and I think a couple others have gotten private rooms with their girlfriends, too. It’s Valentine’s Day. Everyone’s getting lucky.  
  
"Kells," Vic says once we’re alone with the door closed behind us, "are you okay?"  
  
"What? Yeah, of course I am," I say quickly as I take my jacket off and put the sweater back on over my t-shirt. "Why wouldn’t I be?"  
  
"You just seem kind of…tense, I guess."  
  
"I’m not tense," I argue, though I know it’s a lie. I flick on the bathroom light and stare at myself in the mirror, feeling the need to fix my hair even though I’m going to be staying in for the rest of the night.  
  
Vic follows me in, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder as he looks at us both in the mirror with those gorgeous brown eyes. “Even your body’s tense,” he comments, softly rubbing my stomach. “Calm down, babe. Relax. Everything’s okay.”  
  
I take a deep breath, letting my body relax at his touch. I guess he’s right.  
  
"Sorry," I say. "Valentine’s Day just stresses me out, y’know?"  
  
"I know," he sighs, kissing me on the cheek. "You wanna talk about it?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
Vic just looks at me through the reflection in the mirror. “I really liked what you said tonight,” he says finally. “About…love. And loving what you do.”  
  
I nod slowly. “I said it for you,” I tell him truthfully. “I mean, I said it for the kids…but I said it for you, too, y’know.”  
  
He smiles at that. “I love you.”  
  
I take a deep breath, letting the words sink in, reminding myself that they aren’t words to fear. Vic just keeps on running his hands across my stomach, planting tiny kisses on my cheek and my jawline. “You put the sweater back on,” he comments.  
  
I give him a tiny smile. “You seemed bummed that I took it off.”  
  
He shrugs, his cheeks turning pink. “Well…”  
  
We both laugh a little, but then we settle down and sober up, and Vic sighs, squeezing me comfortingly. “Do you want to go to bed?” he asks quietly.  
  
I nod again. “Yeah. Sure.”  
  
So we turn off the lights and hop into our bed, burying ourselves underneath the covers and positioning ourselves so that my back is against his chest and his arm is around my waist. Neither of us seem to be particularly tired, though, and after a few moments, Vic says, “I’m the luckiest man in the world, Kell.”  
  
I try (and fail) not to smile again. “Shut up, you nerd.”  
  
"What? It’s true. I love you. And I’m going to keep telling you that until you realize that it’s a good thing."  
  
I close my eyes and take another deep breath. Vic has said that phrase to me so many times, but I haven’t said it back to him once. I feel so terrible, because in all honesty, I do love him. I’m just not that comfortable saying it yet. But I think I’m getting close.  
  
"I’m sorry," I say guiltily. "I’m an awful boyfriend. You’re always so sweet and caring and…and  _loving_. And I’m just…not.”  
  
"Shhh," Vic whispers. "It’s okay. You’re different. You’re just not as comfortable expressing your emotions. I get it."  
  
I snort. “I don’t.” After a few moments, I add, “Maybe it has something to do with how I was raised. I don’t know. I just…never really felt like I could talk to anyone growing up, and I was never taught how to deal with my emotions, I guess, so I just sort of hold them all in. But then they end up controlling me if I don’t let them out, and that scares me, so I just keep fighting them. And I always saw love as kind of a bad thing, because I didn’t know what a happy marriage looked like, and I always saw people getting their hearts broken and doing all these crazy things because of it, and my old boyfriend in high school always told me he loved me, but then he’d do things that hurt me, and he’d tell me he was only doing it because he loved me…”  
  
Vic squeezes me tighter at that, holding me protectively against him. “I’d never do that to you,” he says, and I know it’s true.  
  
"I know," I say. "I know that."  
  
After another few moments of silence, Vic says, “I’ve got an idea of something that could cheer you up.”  
  
I laugh a little. “Oh, really? Enlighten me.”  
  
"If you say so." With that, he turns me around on my other side so that I’m facing him, and then he kisses me.  
  
It’s a perfect mix of slow and passionate, and I kiss back eagerly, grabbing him by his stupid green flannel and pulling him down on top of me. He moves his body up against mine, straddling my hips as he runs his tongue across my bottom lip.  
  
I can’t help but giggle. “Sex?” I say. “ _That’s_  your method of cheering me up?”  
  
Vic raises an eyebrow and shoots me a little smirk, a look that mesmerizes me to no end. “Sex?” he repeats. “Who said anything about having sex, you horny bastard?”  
  
I giggle again, biting my lip in false innocence. “Well…I mean, if you wanted to…” I can just feel my cheeks turning bright red.  
  
"Why else do you think I got us a private king-sized bed?" He kisses me again. "We’re gonna be kings for a day, Kell."  
  
I laugh so hard that it completely breaks our lips apart. “You’re so  _lame_ ,” I gasp out, covering my face with my hands. “That was awful. Get off of me. You’ve just lost your right to have sex with me because of that stupid fucking pun. Good job.”  
  
"What? No!" Vic says, putting his hand on his chest in a show of mock indignation. "Come on, Kell. That was good."  
  
"That was awful."  
  
"No, it was good."  
  
"It was  _awful_.”  
  
Vic stares at me for a few moments before leaning in close, his breath ghosting across my skin as he hovers above me. “Wouldn’t you miss this?” he teases, playfully nipping at my neck.  
  
I make a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and he grins, licking the sensitive spot. “You’re beautiful,” he says softly, looking up at me with such pure, raw affection. “God. I’ll never get tired of this.”  
  
All my jokes die on my lips, swept away by the emotion in his voice. “Good,” I reply. “Don’t ever stop.”  
  
Vic nods, his eyes shining with seriousness and devotion as he stares into mine, and then he lightly pushes me down onto the bed, kissing me yet again. Both his hands are tangled in my hair and running through it endlessly, the precise and versatile fingers of an experienced guitarist. His lips are soft and pink and full, and I never want them to leave mine. I’ve kissed quite a few lips in my lifetime, but none as beautiful or talented as his. (Then again, nearly everything about him is beautiful and talented.)  
  
"I love you," he says when he pulls away, the fourth time saying it tonight. "And I want to make tonight really special. ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day, and I can’t resist being cheesy as fuck."  
  
"Please do," I breathe. "Please make it special."  
  
"As you wish." He places his lips against my neck and hums softly, sending small vibrations through my skin as he moves downward to my collarbone. I reach up and start to unbutton his shirt, pushing it down off of his shoulders, getting a little turned on just at the sight of those arms. He’s wearing a black t-shirt underneath, but he takes that off, too, grinning as my gaze roams all over his body without apology or hesitation. I just can’t help it. He hardly ever takes his shirt off or anything like that, even less than I do. Generally, he’s a pretty confident guy, satisfied with himself and his life, but his body is the one thing that he doesn’t seem to appreciate as much. But he knows I think he’s beautiful, and the look on his face tells me how much that means to him.  
  
"I can’t handle you when you’re wearing that stupid sweater," he says, still smiling widely as he looks down at me. "Take it off."  
  
"As you wish," I say, repeating his words back to him. It’s getting hot in here anyways, so in a few moments, both my sweater and my t-shirt are gone.  
  
"You’re so beautiful," Vic says, leaning down and pressing kisses along my chest tattoo. "God."  
  
"I appreciate that, but I’m not God. Just Kellin. You don’t have to worship me." I hold back a laugh at my own dumb joke, and Vic fake-glares at me, moving slightly down and biting hard on my nipple. "Ow!" I yelp. He laughs and runs his tongue over it, and I sigh, touching his chest.  
  
"But seriously," he says, his hands running all over my body and resting on my hips. "I think you’re beautiful. Always remember that."  
  
I don’t respond except for a smile, closing my eyes and guiding one of his hands down to my ripped jeans. I hear him laugh again, and then he’s undoing my pants, sliding them off and throwing them to the floor. He gives me sloppy tongue kisses at the edge of the fabric of my boxers, teasing me with all the foreplay—but I revel in every goddamn second of it.  
  
Finally,  _finally_ , he pulls my boxers off and starts stroking me, though I’m already half-hard. He stops after a few seconds, though, shuffling out of his own pants and boxers. I watch him in anticipation, noting that he’s fairly hard, too. He leans down and kisses me once again, pressing our bodies together, and I sigh. Now I’m getting pretty turned on, and suddenly, all I want is him. And from the way he’s acting, it seems that all he wants is me.  
  
After a quick bite on my bottom lip, Vic breaks the kiss off and reaches over into the drawer of the nightstand by the bed, pulling out a small bottle of lube—that bastard; of course he’d come prepared. He sits up a little and pops the bottle open, coating his fingers with the lube. Then he lifts my hips up slightly and slides one finger inside of me.  
  
It doesn’t faze me much, but he’s still gentle with me as he adds a second one, moving them in and out of me. “Does that feel good?” he asks when he adds a third, and I simply nod, sighing as I move myself up and down on those fingers.  
  
"So good," I assure him, closing my eyes. "Please…"  
  
He seems to understand and pulls his fingers out of me. I can hear him lubing himself up before he spreads my legs apart a little more and slowly pushes himself in, letting out a soft moan. I open my eyes and look up at him, wrapping my legs around his waist and nodding, and with that, he starts moving.  
  
His hands drift across my skin, everything about him so soft and gentle and caring, every slow and careful push of his hips, every kiss that he leaves on my chest and my collarbone and my neck and my lips. A series of quiet moans leaves my mouth from every sensation, but before I can reach up to touch him like he’s touching me, he takes both of my hands in his and lightly pins them on the bed, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Mine,” he whispers, squeezing my left hand. “I get to call you mine, baby.”  
  
"You know it," I reply, and he kisses me again, his gorgeous hair falling into both our faces. His hips are moving slightly faster, causing me to sigh into his mouth, moving my own hips in time with his.  
  
Even as he speeds up, he always looks down on me, asking me if I’m okay or somehow searching for my approval, which he gets in the form of my high-pitched moans of pleasure. I love the way he handles me, the trust and intimacy that floats in the air whenever we have sex. His lips are like magic as he drags them across the skin of my neck, nipping and biting, then kissing and licking, leaving me a mess of soft gasps and whimpers.  
  
"Oh, God," I sigh, and Vic smirks teasingly, stopping for a brief moment. I know what he’s going to say right before he says it.  
  
"Oh, Kellin, that’s flattering, but I’m not any God. I’m just Vic."  
  
I try (again, and fail) not to laugh. “Just—just keep going, y-you asshole.”  
  
"As you wish." With that, Vic shifts his position a little bit, going deeper inside me, and that’s when he hits exactly what I want him to hit. Both of us groan loudly at the sudden change, and when he kisses me, I have to break it off because I can’t stop making noise. It’s one of the best feelings, and it’s even better because it’s with Vic. I push myself back down on him, bucking my hips and meeting them with his. Every thrust is in perfect time, and it feels so good.  
  
Vic’s breath hitches in my ear as he keeps going, and even with his confident demeanor, I can tell that he’s getting close, that I’m having the same effect on him that he’s having on me. I move my body even faster against his, rotating my hips in a way that elicits a low and sexy groan from the back of his throat. “You’re s-so hot,” he breathes, his sweat dripping from his hair.  
  
I want to kiss him, but every movement makes me moan some more, my eyes opening and closing as I feel the ecstasy building up, the absolute perfection unfolding between our two bodies. He seems to read my mind and kisses me, long and hard and full of passion; I can feel all his emotions channeled through his lips to mine, and I kiss back with just as much energy, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I can convey to him everything I’m terrified to say.  
  
Vic is the one to come first, a few seconds later, moaning into my mouth before breaking away. “Oh,  _God_ , Kell,” he gasps, burying his face into my chest and holding me tightly as he bites my collarbone and lets it all out. Then he gradually slows down as he rides it out, looking down at me with his long eyelashes and smiling like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And maybe, to him, I am.  
  
He reaches down and pumps me quickly, and I gasp at his touch, arching my back. “Holy shit,” I groan. “I-I’m gonna…”  
  
But he’s already right there, putting a little bit more pressure on me as he strokes me faster, and that’s what has me going overboard. My eyelids flutter as I lean my head back against the pillow, my sweaty hair sticking to my forehead. “Fuck, Vic,  _fuck_!”  
  
Vic slows his hand down, slowly pulling out of me and grabbing some tissues for us to use from a small box on top of the nightstand. We clean ourselves off breathlessly, putting on our pants and boxers but both staying shirtless. We lie there together for a few quiet moments, staring up at the ceiling, the only sound being the sound of our breathing, when Vic turns to me and says, “It’s kind of comforting that it’s so warm in here.”  
  
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”  
  
"Because it’s so cold outside," he explains. "But we’re so warm. We’re shirtless and sweating. It’s nice. I was starting to think it’d be impossible to feel this again, no matter what we did." Then he laughs at himself, rubbing his eyes. "God, what am I even saying? That was so out of the blue, I just…" He shakes his head. "Why do you even like me?"  
  
"I like you because you say random shit like that, you dork," I tell him, yawning as a wave of tiredness washes over me. "I think I’m gonna go to sleep now," I add, turning over on my stomach and burying my face in my pillow.  
  
"Okay," Vic replies, but he always stays up later than I do, so after a few minutes, I hear him shuffling around, and then I feel his fingers on my bare back, tracing some sort of design on me as if he’s drawing on me or something.  
  
I giggle at the touch, my eyes still closed. “That tickles,” I whisper.  
  
"Shhh," he whispers back. "Go to sleep. I’m just gonna do this for a little while."  
  
"You’re so weird," I tease, but I do as he says and try to fall asleep.  
  
His drawing turns into a soothing pattern, almost like a massage. I think he’s drawing the same thing over and over again, so I get used to the way it feels. I sort of want to know what it is that he’s drawing, when I realize that he’s whispering it to himself: “I love you.” He’s writing “I love you” repeatedly, whispering it slowly as he does it: “I—love—you. I—love—you. I—love—you.” It’s almost therapeutic for me, and I know it probably is for him, too. It’s incredible, really, how passionately he loves. He loves me so much and so hard even when I don’t know how to love him at all.  
  
Finally, he stops, and I can hear him yawning. “Kells?” he says. “You still awake?”  
  
I’m too tired to respond and close to falling asleep anyways, so I simply say nothing. Vic sighs and lies back down next to me, pulling the covers up over us both and wrapping his arms around my waist.  
  
It’s right then and there, when he thinks I’m asleep, that I say it, the phrase that’s been stuck on my tongue for so long: “I love you, too.”  
  
And I’m not afraid.  
  
There’s a quiet but audible gasp, and then he squeezes me tighter, his breath hitching. For a moment, I’m worried that I’ve done something wrong somehow, so I turn around to face him, opening my eyes. “Vic?”  
  
What I’m greeted with is my boyfriend crying softly and silently, staring at me with awe and pure love in his eyes, a smile on his face bigger than any I’ve ever seen before. At first he looks embarrassed, because he never cries, but then he just hugs me.  
  
"Why are you crying?" I ask, though I can pretty much guess the answer already.  
  
Vic pulls away and stares at me for another long moment, and then he says, “I’m just…so happy.”  
  
That’s when I know: I didn’t make a mistake by saying it. I didn’t make a mistake by loving him.


End file.
